


The Middle

by saturninesunshine



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, angsty though, mostly canon kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-29
Updated: 2016-01-29
Packaged: 2018-05-16 23:25:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5845033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saturninesunshine/pseuds/saturninesunshine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post Wanheda Part. II. Bellamy and Clarke see each other again. Eventually. </p>
<p>"She had stepped off a dropship and there he just was. All chaos and fury. And she was logic and pragmatism. They fell into those roles so easily they must have been playing them their entire lives. The grounders could be right for all she knew. Maybe there was a past life where everything worked out alright. Maybe they would be reincarnated again and she wouldn’t be Wanheda and he wouldn’t be an imposter."</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Middle

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first truly shippy fic for these two. This is a warning. Spoilers for Wanheda Part II.

It was like they were together. Even though they weren’t. Even though they never would be. How do you start something that could never have begun and would never end? It had been easy walking away from him.

_May we meet again._

Their story wasn’t over. They would meet again. She knew that with certainty. But it shouldn’t have been like this. This was all something from a dream. Three months and there he was.

This wasn’t reality. Reality was three hundred grounder bodies outside her ship. Reality was the smell of smoking flesh inside a mountain. But seeing him after eighty-six days was something else altogether. Time stood still for just that moment. When he put his hand to her face and gently brushed away her hair.

_Look at you._

She looked for as long as her eyes would allow. And then his screams of pain reminded her. This was reality. This was the way things were. He had been safe for eighty-six days. He wasn’t anymore.

She became Wanheda.

That was the only way to protect him. To stay away. Clarke Griffin was a figment. A ghost. She didn’t exist. And Bellamy Blake could go on living. At times in the dark she would have her memories. But that was the only time. She would remember how warm his skin had been against hers and for a moment how her life had been void of tears. How familiar he was in a way she couldn’t even bring herself to think about. They had no time. They would never have time. 

It was over in an instant.

Now it was different. She would style her hair in the grounder way and she would speak their tongue. She would cut out her heart and she would be Wanheda. 

“Clarke.”

What a fool he was for not thinking of that.

“Breik em au.” 

Bellamy was slumped in his corner of the Ice Cell, freezing. The Ice Nation sentry only looked at her with cold eyes. She would speak their language but her request was Skikru.

They would kill her where she stood, Wanheda or not. But that wasn’t what hurt. What hurt was the guarded look in his eyes. How he couldn’t recognize her anymore. It was better that way. Then he would abandon this fool’s errand. Then he would leave the Ice Nation fight to her and be safe. Safe at Arkadia with a nice sky girl he undoubtedly had. It would be her kindest mercy. She didn’t have any anymore but she would for him.

Her past self echoed violently in her head.  _Please don’t kill him._

“Breik em au,” Clarke repeated.

_Please_. 

Azgeda would never accept her like Trikru had. Azgeda would never let Bellamy go. He was an imposter. He was foul, from space.

“They won’t,” Bellamy said, dazed from blood loss. “Not even for you.”

He knew. He knew what she really was. Maybe he wouldn’t even let her save him. But how could she leave him? No matter how far gone she really was, he had always been there. No end and no beginning. 

She had stepped off a dropship and there he just was. All chaos and fury. And she was logic and pragmatism. They fell into those roles so easily they must have been playing them their entire lives. The grounders could be right for all she knew. Maybe there was a past life where everything worked out alright. Maybe they would be reincarnated again and she wouldn’t be Wanheda and he wouldn’t be an imposter. 

They would just be Bellamy and Clarke.

Ice Nation was easy. The guard’s throat sliced smoothly. It gave her a relief she wished she didn’t relish. More Azgeda would come but it was just the two of him in his cell now. This time they wouldn’t be interrupted.

But it was Clarke who knelt by him this time. He was the one tied up. It was Clarke who put a hand to his face and gently brushed the blood from his hair. 

When his eyes opened, he saw her. “Look at you.” He saw Wanheda. 

But his hand found hers and this time it wasn’t to help her kill a mountain full of innocent people. This time it was because he really wanted it to. 

“You shouldn’t have come,” Clarke said. 

There was that smug look of his. The one that said  _whatever the hell we want_. The one she hadn’t seen in an entire lifetime. 

“I couldn’t lose you.”

Clarke laughed for the first time in years.  And it was easy after that. It was so easy she wondered if she had been a fool not to do it before. The war drums were pounding and she knew her life would be a waste if she didn’t do it just once.

The heavy footfalls and yells of Azgeda were getting closer.

Clarke kissed him. It was only a light touch at first, but his hand responded and clutched hers. He held her in place and they were kissing not like it was the first and not like it was the last. It wasn’t.

They kissed like they had done it a thousand times before and would do it a thousand times after. It couldn’t be the end when they had no beginning. They just were. This lifetime had been a waste. The next one would be better.


End file.
